


Besotted

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Inline with canon, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-09-27 23:30:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17171522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: "Alibaba is ready to spill secrets like jewels into Cassim’s lap, as desperate to offer anything he has of interest as if to make up for the distance of three years’ separation; as if the distance doesn’t run farther back than that, as if it hasn’t been implicit in the light Alibaba bears around him like a halo and the shadows that cling to Cassim like oil that never truly comes clean." A chance meeting lets Cassim claim Alibaba's secrets and something more than he intends besides.





	Besotted

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Claws](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claws/gifts).



It’s easy to get Alibaba drunk. Cassim had guessed it would be from the moment he saw the bright-eyed brilliance of Alibaba’s smile upon seeing him, the immediate warmth of the expression entirely unrestrained by the years of time the other has spent in the palace or by lingering bitterness from their last time seeing each other. Alibaba has never known composure that Cassim has seen: his emotions paint themselves across his face, as open and obvious as if he’s shouting them aloud, and all his fine clothes and polished language do nothing at all to hide his unadulterated joy at seeing a presumed friend, even one left behind in the dregs of a life too dark and gritty for one such as himself. His competitiveness hasn’t changed either; if self-preservation initially stalls him from matching Cassim swallow for swallow, all it takes is a teasing word, a taunt turned into the semblance of concern by wide eyes and a soft tone, and he’s upending his own mug of wine to swallow back the whole of it in a long effort that leaves him flushed and breathless even before Cassim leans in to pour him a refill. It takes all of a half hour to have him glowing tipsy warmth from the other side of the heavy table from Cassim himself, and after that getting secrets out of him is as simple a task as asking for them.

He offers more than secrets. The trick to getting out of -- and into -- the palace is one he offers at once, ready to share at the first sign that Cassim might be interested in the knowledge. That hasn’t changed either, that immediate generosity so foreign to Cassim’s nature, so dangerous in the kind of life they used to live even if only one of them ever truly belonged there. The thought of it clenches Cassim’s jaw, even knowing that he ought to be putting on the friendliest facade he can manage, but if Alibaba notices he doesn’t comment on it. He’s too busy pouring affection as easily as Cassim pours wine, babbling himself into friendship and joy and unrestrained delight at seeing Cassim again, at being together, at having a chance to catch up, although his interest in catching up seems more to follow the line of gazing dreamily across the table at the other than really saying anything at all. Alibaba is ready to spill secrets like jewels into Cassim’s lap, as desperate to offer anything he has of interest as if to make up for the distance of three years’ separation; as if the distance doesn’t run farther back than that, as if it hasn’t been implicit in the light Alibaba bears around him like a halo and the shadows that cling to Cassim like oil that never truly comes clean. Cassim bears it as long as he can, sipping at his tankard and holding to sobriety for the span of hours enough to print flushed heat over Alibaba’s high cheekbones and mark his lips damp and red from the wine, until by the time he brings his mug to his lips to swallow off the last and pushes back from the edge of the table he’s sure Alibaba won’t be able to measure how long they’ve been there.

“You’ll have to be getting back soon, won’t you?” Cassim asks, modulating the rejection on the words with a creased forehead as if he’s only just thinking of them, as if he’s sorry to see Alibaba go after their beautiful reunion. “You’re a prince of the country, now. People will worry if you’re gone too long.”

Alibaba shakes his head. “No, no!” he says. “They think I’m asleep, probably no one’s realized I’m gone.” He braces his arm against the solid of the table with as much care as if offers shakier support than a rickety ladder before reaching out for the handle of the pitcher Cassim has kept on his side of the table by design made to seem accident. “Let’s finish the wine together, at least.”

Cassim doesn’t say anything. Alibaba is distracted, frowning attention at the pitcher as he lifts the metal weight of it from the support of the table and frets with the latch on the lid until he can hold it open under one thumb, but after his efforts Cassim isn’t surprised to see no more than a splash of liquid spill into his own near-empty cup, even when Alibaba upends the pitcher entirely and shakes in a futile attempt to find more drink within. Cassim reaches to claim his mug and bring it to his lips; he drinks off the mouthful of wine remaining while Alibaba is pulling the pitcher towards him so he can frown into the empty space that is all that remains.

“We can get another,” Alibaba says, speaking with rising haste as Cassim sets his cup down against the table and leans back against his pushed-back seat. Alibaba pushes the pitcher away with force and looks down instead, turning his attention to the pouch tied to the side of his belt so he can fumble with the laces holding it shut. “It’ll be my treat, this time. I have to pay you back, you bought the first one after all.” His voice is skipping upward, gaining a shrill edge as adrenaline sweeps into his veins to make panic out of the dizzy intoxication Cassim has poured into him; he keeps struggling with his purse until Cassim braces an elbow at the table and leans forward to touch at his hand and stall his movement outright.

“Alibaba.” Alibaba goes still, his head still ducked down so his golden hair falls in front of his eyes, but Cassim can see the shape of his mouth, where red-stained lips are trembling with the force of emotion only barely held back by what self-control Alibaba is still master of. “I have to get you back to the palace.”

Alibaba shakes his head. “No,” he says again, but his voice is weak, Cassim can hear the give of surrender forming itself around the word even as it’s spoken. “I want to stay. I can go back in the morning.”

“They’ll notice you’re gone.” Cassim pushes Alibaba’s hand back down to set the empty pitcher at the table; Alibaba’s fingers go slack, his hand falling back as if Cassim’s touch has filled his veins with the weight of lead. “People will come looking for you.” Cassim lets the corner of his mouth flicker up onto a smile pulled tense around pain; he doesn’t have to struggle to find the expression. “That’s the downside to being important enough to have people care about you, I guess.”

Alibaba’s shoulders hunch forward, his hand shifts under Cassim’s. Cassim doesn’t pull away as Alibaba clasps his grip close around the other’s wrist, even when Alibaba’s hold digs in hard against his skin. “I don’t want to leave.” When he drags at a breath Cassim can hear the tension of tears pulling under the sound. “Not when I only just found you again, Cassim.”

“You’ll see me again,” Cassim lies, friendly warmth so well-polished on his tongue that it slides past his lips without any need for thought at all. “It’s not as if this is your last chance or anything.” He closes his grip on Alibaba’s hand in his and braces his free hand at the table so he can push himself to his feet before pulling at the other’s arm. “Come on. Let’s get you back before they realize you’re missing and put you under house arrest.”

Alibaba coughs a laugh. It sounds somewhat damp, but the curve of the smile at his mouth is as unfeigned as his expressions always are. “Okay,” he says, and when Cassim drags at his arm Alibaba clutches the closer to let himself be pulled to stand on unsteady feet.

Cassim leads them out of the tavern, only sparing a glance over Alibaba’s shoulder to nod acknowledgment to the owner as he makes for the door. Alibaba doesn’t notice the nod any more than he notices the eyes following him, the stares that can pick out the finery of his clothes as a giveaway for his identity even if he had made any attempt at all to disguise himself. He didn’t -- of course he didn’t, the thought probably never occurred to him -- but with Cassim’s hold on his wrist no one stirs to move towards them. Alibaba’s not the only one to have gained in power, and Cassim doesn’t need to wear his in silk and jewels for it to matter more than whatever pretty trinkets Alibaba wears in the cage the palace makes for him.

Cassim could follow Alibaba all the way back. From the hold the other has on his hand he’s sure Alibaba wouldn’t balk at leading Cassim straight through whatever tunnel he made under the palace and right into the opulence of the quarters fit for the prince his father’s blood proves him. But something in Cassim twists at the thought of a betrayal so overt, knotting into a sick and bitter taste at the back of his tongue, and so he stops just outside of the tavern, at the entrance to an alley cloaked in the darkness that Cassim has made his own as surely as his new life has polished all Alibaba’s gold to glittering light.

“I’ll leave you here,” Cassim says, and pulls his hand free of Alibaba’s grip on it. It takes more effort than he expected, but he moves quickly enough to get the edge on Alibaba’s intoxicated thoughts, and by the time the other looks back to reach out for him Cassim is taking a step backwards to put physical distance between them even before he twists his mouth onto a smile hard enough to build a wall in the gap. “I don’t think anyone at the palace wants someone like me in their fancy halls.”

Alibaba looks stricken. “Don’t say that,” he says, and turns to take a stumbling step towards the other. “You deserve to be there just as much as I do.” He reaches out towards Cassim again, his fingers stretching to find and curl against the other’s wrists; Cassim feels even the delicate grip of Alibaba’s hands like shackles closing hard around his arms to strip away all the freedom of the streets he has crafted to his own use. “ _I_ want you there.”

Cassim tries a smile. This one comes harder than the last, it pulls at the corners of his lips and never comes close to touching the darkness of his eyes. “Has your position gone to your head that much?” he asks. “You can’t leave the palace when you choose, surely you can’t go around bringing strangers from the slums back with you.”

Alibaba’s forehead creases, his mouth trembles like a storm-struck sea. “You’re not a stranger,” he says, and then he’s stepping forward, moving so suddenly Cassim doesn’t have a chance to retreat before Alibaba is on him, dropping his hold on the other’s wrists to fling both arms around his neck instead as he buries his face into Cassim’s shoulder with a sob like his heart is breaking. “You’re my friend, Cassim.”

Cassim’s heart is racing, pounding so hard against his ribcage he’s sure Alibaba must be able to hear it, must be able to feel the rapidfire rhythm of adrenaline surging through his veins as if to override all the strength of his body. Alibaba’s arms are warm around his neck, his hold tight enough to press them close together; this near his hair is soft at Cassim’s cheek, the gold of it wafting the smell of something dark and faintly spicy to the other’s nose. Cassim thinks of pulling away, of retreating from the hold of Alibaba’s arms and the heat of his touch, but when he lifts his hands his arms come up instead, his grip reaching out to wrap around Alibaba’s waist and draw the other in against him instead of shoving him away and into that distance where he ought to be, where he has been the whole of their lives, whatever lies Alibaba has told himself.

“I know,” Cassim says. “I’m your best friend.” The words are a lie, he knows they are, he can taste the bitterness of them clinging to the back of his tongue like the dregs of the wine he’s poured down Alibaba’s throat tonight; but Alibaba’s shoulders sag on relief under Cassim’s hold, and when Alibaba shudders a sigh the heat of it spills close against Cassim’s neck, against the inside of his loose robe.

“I’m so glad,” Alibaba says. His forehead presses to Cassim’s neck. His hair is very soft just under Cassim’s ear. “I missed you, Cassim.” His arms tighten; his head lifts to urge still closer. “I missed you so much.”

Cassim is going to urge Alibaba away. It’s that that turns his head, that tightens his arms: he is going to push Alibaba back, is going to turn in to offer some meaningless reassurance and send Alibaba on his way, back to his own life and out of the shadows of Cassim’s. But his motions get tangled, his arms refuse to ease as his head turns in in expectation of speech, and it’s at that moment that Alibaba lifts his head from Cassim’s shoulder to return his gaze to the other’s face. Cassim is left turning into Alibaba’s motion, his head shifting as Alibaba raises his chin, and whatever words either of them might have offered give way to the sudden tension of shock as they find themselves sharing the same breath between the part of their lips.

Neither of them move for a moment. Cassim’s shoulders feel knotted to tension, his whole body seizing tight as if to pull away, as if to push closer, trapped in the uncertainty of his own thoughts and the pounding of his own heart. Alibaba’s eyes are wide, huge and brilliant as they drink in what dim light there is on the street to glow gold; Cassim can see the shift of the other’s lashes as Alibaba blinks, as his attention dips down fractionally. It’s only for a moment, a heartbeat of time for Alibaba’s attention to linger at Cassim’s too-close lips before he starts to look back up to meet the other’s stare; and as Alibaba’s gaze lifts back to the moonlight Cassim leans forward to cast his shadow over the other’s face and crush his mouth down against the part of Alibaba’s lips.

There’s a moment of hesitation; or maybe it’s just that Cassim’s heart is racing too fast for him to keep up with it, that in the first heat of his lips printing themselves against Alibaba’s time drags syrup-long as it spills through his fingers, as it pours itself away from his grasp. Alibaba’s mouth is soft at his, warm and giving in the first startled contact of Cassim kissing him; Cassim’s jaw is set, fixed like a wall to hold himself back. He’s going to pull away, he thinks, just this one moment will be enough, will be satisfaction; and then Alibaba makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, and turns his head into surrender, and Cassim’s hold is tightening at the other’s back and Cassim is leaning in to force Alibaba back against his grip and his jaw is easing, his lips are parting, all of him is canting in to seize the invitation of Alibaba’s mouth opening for him. Alibaba’s hand is at the back of Cassim’s head, his fingers sliding up to brace against the other’s hair, but it’s the strength of Cassim’s grip around the other’s waist that is truly holding him steady, that is keeping him upright at all against the sheer force of Cassim’s mouth urging against his. Cassim is crushing his lips to Alibaba’s, kissing him as if he means to bruise his identity into the other’s skin permanently, as if he means to taste every inch of Alibaba he can reach with his desperate tongue, as if he means to dominate the shadows behind Alibaba’s eyelids until he’s the only thing Alibaba will ever see when he shuts his eyes from now on. And Alibaba surrenders, giving up and giving in as fast as Cassim demands, before he even starts to ask, melting for the other’s mouth and easing to his touch and holding the tighter to his hair and shoulders like he’s trying to keep them together. Alibaba tastes like wine, sweet and hot all against the inside of his mouth, and Cassim kisses him like he’s claiming all the other’s intoxication as his own. Cassim leans in, and Alibaba arches back, and then their balance wavers, sliding away from beneath the both of them, and as Alibaba stumbles into a step their mouths come apart long enough for Cassim to gasp a breath and come back to something like himself.

“Alibaba,” he says, his voice shocked and low and rough, raw with all the things he carries within him that he has never let Alibaba see, before, has never let Alibaba hear. Cassim’s arm tightens around Alibaba’s waist, his jaw flexes on a grimace, and he pulls himself away, retreating into himself as he rasps over a breath of air the colder for how hot his skin feels. “You should go.”

Alibaba’s lashes look like gold in the moonlight. “Cassim,” he says, breathless and soft and as gentle as the fingers in Cassim’s hair, the touch like silk sliding over the back of his neck. “I want...I want to stay.”

Cassim shakes his head. “Not tonight,” he says, and he does the hardest thing he’s done in all his life, and he lets Alibaba go. Alibaba stumbles, unsteady on his feet for a moment as he catches his balance; his hand drops from around Cassim’s neck to flail for a handhold. Cassim catches him, a brief moment of stability just until Alibaba is standing unsupported again; then he drops his hold and steps back, away from the reach of Alibaba’s fingers and the glow of his eyes and hair and skin. “Go back to the palace, Alibaba.”

Alibaba lifts his head to look at Cassim. His eyes are wide enough for Cassim to see the hurt in them, the confusion behind his gaze; but then he takes a breath, and sets the dark soft of his mouth, and when he steadies his shoulders Cassim imagines he can hear a door slamming shut.

“Next time,” Alibaba says, and fixes Cassim with the full pleading of his gaze, with all the persuasion that he has ever been such casual master of. “I’ll stay next time, Cassim. Alright?”

Cassim meets Alibaba’s gaze, looks straight into the desperate intensity of that gaze; and he musters a smile enough to ransom all his freedom back from Alibaba’s keeping, one bright enough to crinkle the corners of his eyes with heat stolen from his chilling heart.

“Yeah,” Cassim says, and lifts his hand to wave farewell as he takes a step back. “Next time.”

Cassim stays where he is as Alibaba ducks into a nod and a blushing smile good enough as a promise, from someone like him. He stays there as Alibaba turns to make his way down the street, moving with the intentional focus of someone unsteady on his feet and trying not to show it. He stays there even after Alibaba has vanished from sight, until a pair of the men from within the tavern emerge to flank Cassim in silence while he tells them to follow the prince back to the end of the secret tunnel he has made leading into the palace. It’s only after his men have vanished, too, that Cassim finally ducks his head, and turns to step into the shadows of the alley, where the darkness is deep enough to hide the slump of his shoulders against the wall, and the tremor of his legs that drops him to the street, and the weight of his hair swinging forward to fall over his face as he breathes rasping inhales to fill the dizzy ache of his chest with the cold dark of the night air around him.


End file.
